C2 Chapter 02
Just a second ago I was having problems getting it up, then there she is—the woman from my past standing in my bedroom and I’m instantly hard as a rock. Dora Harrison, the girl I was meant to marry, the girl I used to fuck seven days from Sun-day, the same girl that cheated on me with some random dude and ruined us. She looks stunning, with those long tanned legs on display in her fuck-me heels and short dress with its peekaboo neckline showing off her cleavage, reminding me of those perfect tits. I haven’t forgotten how sexy she is, perfect in every fucking way. It’s been about five years since I caught her in bed with that arsehole.
“Sorry … I was looking for a bathroom and my friend—”
“Jacob, what the hell is going on? Tell her to get the fuck out. I’m in my under-wear here!” Kimberly shouts, still on top of me. I’m blocking out her voice, staring straight at Dora who is completely rooted to the spot, staring at me blankly. Sweet Je-sus, she hasn’t changed much, and she is still rocking that sexy body of hers.
I push Kim off me and move off the bed, closing the space between Dora and me. The dim light from the lamp casts shadows across the bedroom, but Dora will have noticed my dick as it stretched the fabric and peeks out the top of my boxers. Too bad, because my brain is fried. I can’t comprehend how she is even in here, standing in my fucking house. I only just relocated to London, but she couldn’t have known that. We haven’t been in touch. Her large brown eyes are moving over my body mak-ing me warm, and her mouth is hanging wide open. Kimberly is huffing and swear-ing, attempting to cover herself up.
“Dora, Dora, Dora. What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, pushing the old feel-ings away.
She is not worth thinking about. She fucked you over; she’s why you fell off the wagon a couple of years ago.
The part of me that is still hurt and angry tries desperately to erase all the happy memories of us, making me think of what she did and how it hurt. The part of me that still loves her thinks about how things could have been; maybe things could be dif-ferent now, better. I take a step back and inhale a deep breath to centre myself and stop these foolish emotions running rampant in my brain.
I was so completely screwed after I caught her cheating and we finished. Every-thing fell apart and it took absolutely everything in me to get my head on straight and an age to get over her. It was like I was stuck in a nightmare.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving anyway. Sorry for the intrusion,” she says and runs out of the room. I can’t get my head around this. My muscles are locked up, thoughts racing through my mind mixed with images of our relationship. What the hell just happened?
“Jacob, who the hell was that? I thought you wanted to screw me good and proper tonight?” Kim asks, waving her hands in front of my face. She has streaks of mascara running down her face from the heat and exertion, and right now I really don’t want to even touch her, never mind fuck her.
“Nothing. I’ve changed my mind about hooking up. Sorry, love, not tonight. I’d rather get high,” I tell her, sounding like a complete prick, but I can’t get Dora out of my head. When we were together, it was supposed to be forever. She was it for me. We were both just about to graduate and my rugby career was taking off. We had so many plans, so many brilliant ideas and then, boom, I was left alone, fucked up, with my heart ripped in half.
“Oh my god, I don’t believe this,” Kim says, putting her clothes on franticly. “It must be true then what people say—you’re so screwed by drugs that you don’t know what’s going on around you. Whatever. Suit yourself. This party sucks anyway.”
She marches over to the door, shoots me an angry look and slams the door as she leaves. Then I’m alone in the room, going over and over the fact that I have just been face-to-face with Dora. Yeah, Kim is right. Drugs help me deal with my shitty life that from the outside looks perfect. Nowadays I only smoke weed. I’m done with hard drugs. This party wasn’t even my idea, and Kim only showed up to screw me because she is a groupie, or a rugby honey, as the boys call them.
I put some clothes on, drag my hand through my hair, and storm out of the room several minutes later. I’m hoping that the girl that broke my heart five years ago is still somewhere in my flat.
There are people in the hallway, a man and a woman that are all over each other dry humping like dogs in heat. The music is blasting, and some girls are dancing to the rhythm. It looks like Peter took control of this whole shebang. I didn’t even want to have it, but he kept pushing and pushing. I needed to let people know that I was still pretty much in the game. I spent five years drowning myself in alcohol, abusing painkillers, and losing myself in any drug I could get my hands on. It was time to start over, a fresh start in a new city. My career had begun to skyrocket, but I haven’t sustained the form I need to gain more respect, I’ve given in to too many temptations: drugs, women and parties and not always in that order. This transfer is my last chance to get myself together and start playing rugby seriously, to cash in on my talent play-ing the game I love. Fuck, I thought that London was going to be easy, but now after seeing Dora, I’m falling apart again.
“Hey, man! Good, you’re here. I need you to meet someone. This guy is a leg-end,” Pete says, pulling me to the side when I try to find Dora. She couldn’t have left yet. Years ago she never missed a good party.
“What? I don’t have time for this, mate. This girl just came in to my bedroom. She wore a white dress, killer legs. Have you seen her?” I ask, pretty much aware that my heart is pounding a hundred miles an hour. Christ, I need to find her. I should have talked to her there and then.
Our history is complicated to say the least; she has more than likely moved on, but I can still hold out some hope. I was the one that ended things between us, when I caught her cheating. She pissed all over our relationship, betrayed me, so I pushed her away.
“White dress … no, man, I haven’t seen any girl in a white dress. I thought you were shagging that rugby honey, what was her name? Oh yeah Kim! Didn’t you take her in your bedroom?” Pete asks, grinning. I want to punch him. He’s an idiot. I don’t even know why I’m hanging out with him.
“Stop fucking with me, Pete. I am not screwing Kim. I need to find this girl, like yesterday. She is important,” I hiss, clenching my fists with frustration.
“You mean Dora? Gorgeous long-legged brunette?” asks some guy, wearing a very gay outfit.
“Yeah, Dora Harrison. Do you know her?”
The blond guy smirks and looks me up and down for a long moment. Yep, defi-nitely gay, and he definitely likes the way I’m presenting myself right now.
“Of course. I’m her best mate, pretty boy. We’ve been mates for a long time,” the guy says, folding his arms over his chest.
I laugh and drag my hand through my hair, attempting to squash the unease that builds in my stomach. Over the years I often wondered what Dora was up to, the girl that pushed me to the edge of the cliff.
“Okay, so what happened to her? She barged into my room, then ran away,” I add. “We have a history. We used to be together, but that was five years ago.”
He looks surprised, astonished even. Yep, the guy might be her best mate, but he doesn’t know half of the shit that she pulled off in the past. It doesn’t take me long to find out everything I need to know about my Dora. The girl that awakens that other part of me, the hidden part of my damaged soul.
My head hurts when I open my eyes in the morning, trying to recall what hap-pened the night before. I rub my eyes, thinking that I must have had a panic attack at the party, that I must have been hallucinating. There was no way on earth that I walked straight into Jacob Radcliffe, my ex-boyfriend. He was practically screwing some blonde girl, and I interrupted them. Shit, that wasn’t my intention. I thought that he was abroad, in France, playing for some club. I remember just standing in front of him, speechless. Normally I say a few words and the guy is mine, but I was just fro-zen. It was strange.
How many years has it been? Four? No, it’s been five years since I saw him last. Our last conversation was bitter and he was so angry. He was shouting that he was done with me, that he never wanted to see me again. I remember it well.
I cover my face with my palms, attempting to push aside the words he used and how it felt like physical violence. Anxiety begins to clench its claws around my neck, making it hard to breathe. Mike saw me running. I didn’t even stop to tell him that I was going home.
After two years, I stopped following Jacob’s shining career. Now and then I heard the rumours that he started abusing alcohol and drugs, that he was just about to be fired from his French club. I had no idea that he was back in the UK. Damn, Mike, I should have asked him about that flat, about whose party we were going to.
When I was standing in front of him everything came back to me. The first time we met. India, Oliver and that damn party when we started flirting. Everything was perfect until I got scared and let my old insecurities in.
Maybe it was the fact that I never got over him that I kept sleeping with guys, looking for that perfect man, for the perfect love. Mike thinks I’m delusional, but all I want is to be loved, and to maybe give myself another chance to find someone like Jacob.
My alarm rings again, throwing me back to the real world. I drag myself out of bed at seven o’clock in the morning and start getting ready for the day ahead. At least I wasn’t drunk, and I don’t have to suffer from a bad hangover while dealing with all the shit that Lindsey hadn’t gotten around to finishing for me.
I dress in a tight pencil skirt and matching jacket hoping that I look smart enough for my Dad. Half an hour later I’m eating some dry toast, trying to deal with over-whelming anxiety. My apartment seems so dull and depressing, and as I look around, great sadness slips in. I made Jacob hate me five years ago, and now after running away last night he most probably thinks that I’m insane.
An hour later I walk into the office with a clear goal ahead of me. I need to hire a new secretary today and invite Dad for dinner. Maybe at least this way he will notice that my whole life doesn’t revolve around parties and random strangers in my bed.
“Dora, glad you’re early. Yesterday when you left, your dad asked me to give you this,” says Jenny, one of the researchers, handing me a piece of paper.
“The list of potential secretaries that you should call as soon as possible. I know that Lindsey was good, but your dad said it’s urgent that you find someone immedi-ately. You won’t be able to deal with all the cases on your own,” she says, smiling. Great, it looks like Dad doesn’t have any faith in me.
“It’s fine. I have five interviews set up for today. Besides, I need to speak to Dad about something. Do you know if he’s already in?”
Jenny looks astonished. Yeah, I’m telling lies again, but she can’t know that I’m useless and I pushed Lindsey out.
“Oh…well, that’s fantastic. Scrap the list then,” she says nervously. “Unfortunate-ly your dad isn’t going to be in today. He had some sort of family emergency.”
Bitter anger and disappointment fills my gut all of a sudden. Family emergency, my arse. Dad’s new girlfriend must have come to town unexpectedly. He divorced Michelle a year ago, and now he is dating that gold digger. I hate her guts.
“Okay, no worries. Thanks, Jen,” I say and go back to my desk, feeling deflated. At least Dad won’t be standing over me, watching me all day long. First things first, I need to make some phone calls to clients. Lindsey was pretty good, but now every-thing is down to me and deep down I know that I will miss her.
“Hey, good looking, what happened to you last night, you just vanished?” Mike asks, sticking his head inside my large office. It’s surprising that he came in so early. That party must have sucked donkey balls.
“Oh, I wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to leave,” I tell him, checking for the agency names that we have used before to hire any temp staff. If my father finds out that I haven’t taken care of this, I will have a problem.
“Liar. Something happened last night and you’re going to tell me all about it,” he says, closing the glass door behind him. I’m really not in the mood to have a heart-to-heart right now. Things are complicated and I hope that I never see Jacob ever again.
“Maybe, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Can we catch up at lunch?” I ask. “I’m kind of swamped.”
Mike doesn’t like when I hide stuff from him. He is the only person that knows about my issues, the real issues. Most of the time he knows that I’m telling him crap, but he doesn’t call me out on it. He is understanding with everything, as long as I know when not to cross the line.
“I would love to, but that handsome rugby player is in the reception and he wants to speak to you right now.” He drops that bomb on me.
“Rugby player? What are you talking about? You don’t mean Jacob?” I whisper in reply.
“Well, the guy that you were running away from at the party—he’s here and he asked for you.”
I get up abruptly, knocking my knee on my desk. Jacob is here, wanting to speak to me, when I can only think about running as far away from this place as possible.